One Song Glory
by Van Donovan
Summary: A serious story about how one of the Weiß boys copes with the onslaught of a deadly diease
1.

One Song Glory: part one  
23 May 2000  
Van Donovan  
trowa@trowa.com  
---------------------  
  
I listened to Roger's song "One Song Glory" from the musical RENT on instant repeat to write  
this. It's morbid and sad and does contain shounen-ai. This is your warning.  
  
Special thanks to Pluto, to whom this fic wouldn't have even been concieved. Well, perhaps  
it would have, but the pairing is for her entirely. ^_^  
  
--------  
  
"Where's Youji?"   
"He's feeling sick again, and taking the day off," piped Omi to answer the angry  
redhead. Aya never was pleased when any of them took sick days, and this was Youji's third  
in just as many weeks. He pulled his apron over his head, violet eyes narrowed. "He was  
out late, Ayakun, he needs the rest," the youngest Weiß added.  
"Out on personal pleasures doesn't allow for slacking." Aya firmly stated going to  
man the register. Omi looked up from the arrangement of cataylilies he was working on and  
shook his head with a soft smile.  
"Mou, give him -some- slack Ayakun. I'm worried about him." Omi didn't mention the  
fact that Ken was missing too. For some reason Aya always tended to let the young soccer   
player slack off more than the womanizer. Omi suspected it was because Youji was oldest and   
should have set an example, and Ken was -always- late because he was playing with children.  
Omi was quite sure Aya had an affinity for kids.  
Omi put some fern into his arrangement and sighed. Aya looked up as a customer came  
into the shop. "There is nothing to worry over," the redhead said. "He simply needs to  
get his priorities straight."  
Conversation was cut short as the customer went to ask about flowers and Omi had to   
run in the back to check their stock while Aya dealt with the other questions.  
  
-----  
  
Sitting up hurt. Breathing hurt. His head hurt. Smoking hurt.   
A lot.   
That didn't stop his trembling fingers from flicking a lighter on. His zippo fired   
to life, the flame burning blue-white, and he dipped his head to ignite the unfiltered end   
to the flame. He switched the lighter off and took a long pull on the cigarette, letting   
the nicotine hit his spot and exhaling. He didn't usually smoke inside, but he felt   
wretched. Really, really sick. He couldn't get up to go outside to smoke.  
"What's wrong with you, Kudou?" He murmured, running his free hand through a tangled  
mess of honey-blonde locks. If this hadn't been happening more and more, he would have   
dismissed it as a twenty-four hour flu bug, or a hangover or some such thing, but it was  
happening a lot. Generally he was able to function feeling shitty, but like right now, he  
was too dizzy and nauesous to even stand up.   
He pulled another calming draught on his cigarette and leaned back, closing his   
eyes, letting the smoke float out of his mouth, trying to focus on something other than the  
pain in his chest. "This is stupid." he groaned and sat up, clutching his head and swinging  
his legs off the bed. He found his equilibrium and then stood, shakily. He'd been avoiding a  
doctor even more than resting, and it wasn't clearing up. He was feeling worse. He was  
probably sick with some virus and needed some sort of anti-biotic. He crushed his cigarette  
into the ashtray and started downstairs, not bothering to doll himself up. He looked as bad as he  
felt. He didn't -care-.  
"Oi, Aya . . ." He muttered, poking his head into the flower shop. He knew the red-  
head was pissed at him for missing another day of work, but he didn't care about that,   
either. He needed to go to the doctor's.  
The boy with the sister complex looked up from the register, eyes a cruel glare upon  
hearing his voice, but softening just slightly seeing his bedraggled expression. Omi was   
there too, and his eyes widened a lot seeing the always-well-kept man so scruffy looking.  
"Youjikun! You should be in bed!" Omi cried, getting to his feet. Aya glanced at  
Omi and then back to Youji, agreement in his eyes.  
"I need to go to the doctor." He said, rubbing his eyes clean of sleep. "I'm must  
have some virus." He looked at Omi and smirked. "I don't wanna infect any of you, now, so  
I need to get something to clear this up," he glanced back to Aya, a bit more seriously.   
"I know I've been missing too many days as it is," Aya nodded a little. "Can you take me,  
Aya? I don't trust myself to drive right now."   
Both Omi and Aya blinked, because for Youji not to be independent enough to drive  
himself meant he was -really- feeling bad. Aya looked at Youji a moment longer, to see if  
the man had some ulterior motive and then nodded, feeling the other was sincere.  
"All right. Omi, you'll be okay? Ken should be in soon," Aya asked. Omi nodded  
enthusiastically. Aya grabbed his keys and headed for his car, Youji shuffling along after  
him. Omi called a "get well soon!" that was cut off as Youji let the back door slam behind  
him. He crawled into Aya's jeep and buckled up, holding himself delicately. Some days he  
felt completely fine, and felt like nothing was wrong, but then it'd come back and smack him  
in the face like now. He felt like he was going to die.  
Too pessimistic.   
  
-----  
  
"Oi, Youji, you got a hospital bill!" Ken handed the letter over to Youji, who   
looked up from where he was leaning over his ramen, slurping it down with abandon. He was  
feeling much better since his hospital visit a few weeks ago. The doctor had prescribed   
some antibiotics and they seemed to have kicked whatever was ailing him.  
"I already got a bill," he muttered and plucked the letter from Ken's hands. He   
yawned and set his bowl down, wiping his hands on his jeans. Aya glanced at him and then  
at the envelope as he fished a knife out of the kitchen drawer to open the letter with. Omi  
was out at an after school activity. Ken bounced back out to the flower shop, finished with  
his lunch and flipping through his sports magazine that'd arrived. Aya had gotten no mail  
and just looked back at his reflection in his ramen.  
The soft tearing of the envelope was calm enough. The unfurling of the paper was a  
bit unsettling. Aya closed his eyes as he imagined Youji reading over the words of the   
paper. He looked up, hearing no motion from Youji. "Well?" He inquired, almost knowing  
already what the letter would say, and how Youji would answer.  
"Eh? Oh, it's nothing," the blonde said, stuffing the letter into the envelope.  
Aya's eyes caught the tremble of his hand. He stood up, his chair scraping on the kitchen   
tile and pulled the envelope from Youji's hand in an uncharacteristic act. "Oi, Aya!" Aya   
raised his hand to silence Youji. He wanted to know what was going on. Youji's shoulders   
slumped and just told him. "It's nothing, Aya, they just want me to go in for some more   
testing."  
"When? I'll go with you."  
Youji blinked, looking up at him, stunned at the other's sudden concern. "Aa, it  
says on there somewhere. May 19th, I think. Why the sudden interest? It's none of your  
concern." Youji said, dumping his noodles into the sink.  
"That's tomorrow." Aya shook his head. "This is serious."  
"No it's not! It's nothing!" Youji shouted and shut the water off, looking at the  
dirty dishes in the sink. "It's just nothing. It doesn't mean -anything-."  
"Youji,"  
"NOTHING!" He shouted and spun around, leveling Aya with a verdant glare.  
Aya just bore him back with a similar amethyst stare, but said nothing. Regardless,  
he was going to go in with Youji for the testing. He wouldn't let him do it alone.  
"Oi, something wrong in here you two?" Ken inquired, poking his head into the room.  
Youji turned his back to the younger and shook his head.  
"Nothing wrong Ken, I'm done here," he said, dried his hands off and pushed out of   
the kitchen to help in the flower shop. Aya sadly watched him go.  
  
-----  
  
"Please, sit down Mister Kudou."   
Youji didn't want to sit. He didn't want to be in this office with this man, and he  
really didn't want Aya shadowing him like a wraith. He felt -fine-. He didn't want to hear  
whatever this man with a PhD had to say. He wanted to go back to the flower shop and tend  
to the blossoms and flirt with pretty girls.  
He sat.  
The doctor glanced to Aya and then nodded to the other vacant chair. He assumed if  
Youji had him along, he wanted the other there for moral support. Youji's fingers twitched  
like he wanted a cigarette. The doctor frowned, and took a breath. It was always so hard  
to break the news to patients. Youji looked anxious. He knew -something- was up. Aya  
beside him seemed cool and placid. He didn't think the other would be moved by anything the  
doctor could say at all.  
"We got the results from your tests back," he began the normal routine, and Youji  
watched him with a cold-green fury boiling in his eyes. He wanted to cut the cat-and-mouse  
chase and get to the point.  
"Skip it, doc. Just tell me what I have: Lung cancer? Diabetes? A tumor?"  
"HIV." He said, firmly, looking Youji back in the eyes.  
The other's grip on the chair tightened, and his eyes widened a little, reflexively.  
  
Then, his world came crashing down.  
  
  
  
-- end part one--  



	2. 

One Song Glory: part two  
24 May 2000  
Van Donovan  
trowa@trowa.com  
---------------------  
  
Initially inspired by listening to the song "One Song Glory" by Roger from the musical RENT  
this story took a tragic turn when my real life cousin drowned today [May 24th, '00] while   
his mother is/was dying of cancer. I'm in an incredibly depressed mood and I suddenly have   
so much more for this story. Please, learn something from it.  
  
--------  
  
"What?" Youji's knuckles were white as he clutched the chair.   
The doctor didn't give him the reprieve he needed to let the information sink in.   
"I've already gotten the results back from the T-Cell count test I took when we found out   
you tested positive." Youji didn't hear anything he was saying. "Your count is at 650.  
Normally it's between 800 and 1,300. Your sickness resulted from this low blood count.  
We've got some treatments already prepared for you, and as soon as we get the results of the  
Viral load test we can get your drug regimens out." The doctor looked to Aya, because he  
could tell by Youji's glassy-eyed expression the other wasn't hearing anything he was   
saying. He continued: "We have several on-staff guidance councilors to help you through  
this. You're not going to die. Not for a long time."  
Youji looked at him at that, blinking to refocus his eyes. "What? No one-year-to-  
live bullshit?" He released the chair's armrest and looked away.  
"HIV isn't deadly. It only kills when it evolves into AIDS. That may not happen  
for another ten or fifteen years."  
"Fifteen years is a 'long time'!?" Youji shouted, snapping his head back, glaring at  
him. "There's some mistake. Look, check your tests again."  
But the doctor just shook his head. Deep down, Youji knew it was true. Oh, how he  
knew it was true. How many women had he made love to unprotected? How many of them could  
have been HIV carriers? That was the thrill of riding on the edge, wasn't it?   
You're going to -die-.  
"No." He softly moaned, shaking his head miserably. He didn't feel Aya's hand when  
the other reached out to touch him.  
"You're not alone," the doctor said, having had to deal with patients in denial   
like this before. "We have many treatments."  
"But no cure."  
"That's true, but this is just a wake up call. Like I said, you may not contract  
AIDS for another decade, and we're on the brink of discovering a cure. It could very well  
happen before you--"   
"I don't need to hear this." Youji growled and stood up, cutting the doctor off.  
Aya stood too, a silent partner to over shadow and watch everything as a mute. It was as if  
he had clairvoyance and could already see what would occur in the future.   
  
------  
  
"H.I. fucking-V." Youji hissed, draining down another sharp brandy. Aya sat beside  
him on a bar stool, violet eyes shaded by crimson hair, holding his own brandy that he'd  
barely touched. "It seems fitting though, doesn't it?" he rhetorically asked, looking at  
Aya. He wasn't drunk yet, he'd only had two shots, but he was messed up regardless. "I  
wonder who it was," he said, talking to hear himself. They'd not talked since the  
hospital. Aya had just known to take Youji to the nearest bar and let him smoke and drink.  
He wouldn't stop the man. Not this time.  
"God," he said miserably shaking his head, then softly whispered: "I wonder how   
many I've infected." Haunted jade eyes looked up at Aya from a tangle of golden hair.  
The redhead felt his heart cinched and he swallowed tightly, looking back at him.   
He wanted to comfort Youji, but he wasn't sure how. Empathy was not something he could do.   
Sympathy . . . ? What difference would it make whether he knew or not? Youji didn't -want-   
sympathy. "'Ten years', he said." Youji quoted with a snort. "Did you know that's the   
-longest- they expect me to hold out for? Ten to fifteen years. It's more likely to be   
five. And it -could- be months. Did you know that? Shit."  
Of course he knew that.  
"Look, I don't want to get drunk tonight. Let's get out of here." Youji grunted,  
getting to his feet. Aya silently paid and walked back to the car with Youji. They rode  
with the red-jeep's top down, their hair blowing in the late-afternoon wind. Aya didn't mind  
the other lighting up in his car. There were so many exceptions he could make for the older  
man today.   
"Do you think Ken and Omi will . . . ?"  
"No. They'll be supportive. Everyone will be."  
"That's right." Youji dejectedly breathed, extending his hand to let the raging   
wind blow over it. "Everyone will treat me delicately."  
"Don't tell them."  
"Hmm?" Youji glanced over and caught Aya's eyes for a moment before the other went  
back to watching the road. "I suppose I could . . . but, wouldn't you tell them?"  
Aya was silent for a long time before softly saying: "No, I wouldn't."  
"Aw fuck, what do I care?" he unbuckled and stuck his head out the window. Aya  
missed what exactly he screamed to the blur of buildings as he whizzed past, but he was  
pretty sure it was "I've got HIV! Whooooooo!" He knew the moods Youji was phasing in and  
out of too well. He got the urge to see his sister. He wondered how she was doing without   
him. He hated himself for leaving her in Tokyo alone, but he couldn't face her again. Not   
after killing in her name. Just knowing she was alive and awake and all right was enough   
for him. He was just an assassin now. He was just AYA.  
"You know," Youji said after a period of silence. Aya glanced at him. The other's  
cigarette was barely a stub now. Youji kept his eyes on the road, staring into the vacant  
highway before them. "I think I'll miss sex the most."  
Aya found himself grinning.  
"Find that funny, do you Aya? You probably don't even know what sex is." he looked  
out the window and then eyed his cigarette distantly and flicked it out the window. "Just  
wait and see how you feel if you get HIV." he muttered. He hadn't meant to sound bitter,   
but of course he was. Aya's smile dropped instantly and he kept to his stoic guise.  
  
-----  
  
Youji should have won an award for his act with Omi and Ken; he did decide to tell  
the two. He took their silent dumbfounded stares and the sorrow in their eyes and turned  
it around on them, joking about, saying how he just had to go out and find some HIV infected  
ladies to flirt with. Then he made off with fake convulsing and flung himself on the   
kitchen floor as he mock-died. Ken had joined in, humming the funeral march and Omi had   
played too, dramatically dropping to his knees and delicately laying the table center   
flower-piece on Youji's 'dead' body. Everyone was smiling and joking by the time Youji   
finished with them. Aya sat in quiet contribute as the sole audience.  
But now the oldest man's door was shut against the rest of the world after the stage  
play. There was no loud blare of music. There was no hum or whistle while he readied him-  
self to go out. It was like Youji was already dead.  
Softly, Aya knocked on his door. He waited several minutes, knowing the other   
wouldn't open it, but after standing there feeling useless a few moments more, Youji opened   
it. He hadn't expected anyone to still be there, and so his swollen red eyes and streaked  
cheeks were bared completely to the redhead who stood right in front of him.  
Youji had been crying.  
He went into Youji's room silently and uninvited, shutting the door behind him. He  
turned and looked back to Youji, who just stood there like a shell of the man he was. Aya's  
heart went out to him. He left the door and went to Youji, embracing him tightly. Youji  
stood rigid for the first second but then he began to melt. His hands hesitantly reached  
up and rested on Aya's back. The touch moved into a grasp and Youji bent at the neck, his  
hands clutching Aya's shirt, his face contorting in silent crying. He gasped and then a  
sob rolled from him. He shook, burying his face into Aya's neck, clinging to the redhead  
and letting himself go, letting Aya hold him and carry his burden for him.   
Youji had gone from the state of denial, to the state of acceptance in just one   
day. Aya found the blonde was stronger than he thought he would be.  
Youji had accepted that he was going to die.  
  
-----  
  
He stayed with the blonde well into the night, letting the other cry until he  
couldn't stand anymore. Then he'd lead him to his bed and sat him down. He hadn't wanted   
to leave Youji unattended if the other didn't want to be alone, but . . .   
"Thanks." came the dry hoarse voice from the ailed. Aya looked up, his eyes glad   
he had helped the other, but no smile graced his lips. Youji laid back on his pillow  
endlessly exhausted and tired. He was ever grateful for Aya. The other had been there to  
support him during the testing and hear the results with him, but he'd never shied away at  
the idea of the disease. He'd just let him cry on his shoulder for an hour like a baby, or  
some silly school girl, but he knew Aya didn't think anything less of him. Aya didn't think  
less of him, or question him. He was just there, and he was so supportive.  
He would have gone mad trying to do this alone.  
"I couldn't do this without you. I really mean that," Youji said again, trying to  
relax. He felt so heavy. There were so many burdens on his shoulders.  
Aya nodded a little, aware Youji couldn't see the motion. "You needed it."  
"Aa. It's like you know exactly how I'll feel."  
Aya hesitated and then looked to Youji's silent stereo, focusing on the holes in the  
speaker. "I do," he quietly replied.  
"Eh?" Youji asked, opening one eye and looking at Aya. The redhead's gaze was off  
him finally, focused on something he couldn't see from his vantage point. "How could you   
-possibly- know how I woul--" he dropped off his sentence, his other eye opening. "Aya?"  
"Aa," it was an affirmative.  
Youji sat bolt upright in his bed, eyes wide. Aya felt his heart thudding in his   
chest as Youji caught on.  
"You . . . you're . . ." Youji couldn't bring himself to say the rest.  
Aya lifted his head back up and looked at the man on the bed.  
  
His eyes alone confirmed Youji's every suspicion.  
  
  
--end part two-- 


	3. 

One Song Glory: part three  
24 May 2000  
Van Donovan  
trowa@trowa.com  
---------------------  
  
Initially inspired by listening to the song "One Song Glory" by Roger from the musical RENT  
this story took a tragic turn when my real life cousin drowned today [May 24th, '00] while   
his mother is/was dying of cancer. I'm in an incredibly depressed mood and I suddenly have   
so much more for this story. Please, learn something from it.  
  
--------  
  
"How?" Youji breathed, but instantly regretted so bluntly asking the question. He  
didn't view Aya as an overly sexual being, so whoever it had been was probably very close to  
him, and most likely already dead. But, the word was out. He wouldn't hold it against Aya   
if the other simply didn't reply, though. Could Aya really be HIV positive too? It just   
wasn't adding up for him. Aya never let on about the condition. It never seemed to affect  
him. But . . . he HAD wanted to go with him from the first testing, like he'd known what  
the letter in the beginning meant. And everything Youji had asked and said seemed to fall  
into place. He instantly regretted mocking Aya earlier with the 'You probably don't even   
know what sex is. Just wait and see how you feel if you get HIV.' statement. He'd just   
thought Aya's scowl was because he'd put him down. If only he'd known!  
"It was before Weiß," Aya said, his voice soft and deep in the thickness of the   
room. Youji looked up at him, silencing the thoughts running around in his head. Aya was  
really going to tell him? He held his breath.   
Aya bowed his head, having never talked about this aloud to anyone. Somehow, he  
didn't think it'd be as glorified as Youji wanted it to be. "I was working with a group   
called Crashers before Birman took me into Weißes fold." This was all entirely new informa-  
tion for Youji. "We were effective, but we were reckless too. My partner was a guy around  
my age, at the time, who we called Knight. He didn't know it then, but he was an HIV   
carrier." Youji's eyes widened. Aya had gotten HIV from another man? Why was Aya telling  
him this? He didn't want to know this.  
"We would get hurt, and we'd bandage one another up. We'd get sick, we'd care for  
one another." Youji didn't want to know the direction this was going. "We were crude and  
we thought we were invincible. We were wrong. There was a drug we used to use before we  
fought that would enhance our senses when our heart rate went up as adrenaline kicked in.  
Knight was our main supplier. Where he got it from, I don't know. But, we didn't think   
about HIV or diseases or anything back then. It was enough to make it from day to day   
alive without worrying about those things.  
"We shared needles," he said, softly, looking down. Youji felt his breath get  
knocked out of him. So -that- was how. "We didn't know at first. How could we? It was   
just by chance that I went to the hospital and when I'd left, I got a letter in the mail,  
just like yours, asking me to come back in for testing. It was years ago though. I've been  
able to simply block it from my mind and live regardless."  
Youji had never heard so many words come from Aya's mouth at one time. They hadn't  
just been 'words' either. It had been Aya's life. A deep dark secret he'd carried with him  
for years. How could the other be so strong? "I couldn't keep it to myself for so long.  
I think . . . if I'd been alone, I'd have just lost it."  
Aya shook his head. "I had too much to live for then. Getting revenge for Aya was  
the most important thing for me. I didn't have time to die because of an immune deficiency  
in me. Just how I can't die on our missions."  
"That's amazing, Aya," he softly breathed. Unspoken, a bond had sprung up between  
the two of them. A bond of friendship, and of kinship. Youji had always thought Aya was  
just a hard-ass for his own pleasure, but it was obvious the other had to shut himself off  
from the world, and his emotions, to even just make it through life.  
Unbidden, the thought of Aya's sister being out of the hospital and living happily  
again came into his mind. The redhead refused to see her. It was like he was ashamed, and  
of course he was. But, what was keeping him going, now that the one thing he'd sought  
revenge for was finally avenged? "Now what?" Youji softly asked.  
Aya looked up at him, his eyes questioning. "I mean, now that your sister is okay.  
Will you just go on being an assassin? The drive you had to live for is gone now," he said  
trying to clarify things. Aya nodded a little, as if understanding.  
"Find something else to live for now, I suppose." Aya met Youji's eyes. The blonde  
looked away. He felt closer to Aya now than he'd felt to anyone since . . . since Asuka.  
The other had this secret part of his life, and he could understand it because he also had   
the same ailment. They were instantly drawn close by a common factor, but, how close?   
"Perhaps you should go," Youji softly said. After all, it was getting late.  
"I want to stay," the redhead replied.  
Youji opened his mouth to protest, feeling an awkwardness rise up in him, but then  
he realized just how much Aya himself was hurting. Undoubtedly, no one had ever let him cry  
on their shoulder. No one had been with him when he was diagnosed. He'd carried his burden  
not only silently, but utterly alone. Now that he'd trusted his secret to another person,  
himself, it only seemed fitting that he should feel the same comfort he'd given.  
"Then stay." Youji crooned and crawled over his bed to embrace Aya from behind.  
"You're not alone anymore." Aya stiffened a moment, but then relaxed and exhaled a soft  
ragged breath. It'd been so long since someone had offered him support and compassion.  
"Youji."  
  
-----  
  
After that night, the two were practically unseparable. Youji flourished under  
Aya's stony visage, trying to warm the other up some. Aya actually was finding himself with  
a little more purpose in life. His step had a spring to it, and every time he saw Youji,   
the other would have some perfect little joke to share, or thing to make the other smile.   
Ken and Omi noticed it too, and both were grateful for it, although thoroughly perplexed.   
No one had expected such a close friendship to spring up between the two.  
Which wasn't to say Youji was great. When dusk came and the blonde was still at   
home with no dates to go see and no places to go hang, he'd get depressed. Sex was a part  
of Youji as much as breathing and eating was. He'd pace restlessly in the kitchen, or flip  
channels on the TV until he passed out.  
Missions became a welcomed relief from the monotony of daily life, but they came few  
and far between. "Mou, Youji, you've been here since five." It was Ken, walking into the  
den where Youji sat, flipping channels, yawning. It was almost nine now. "Why don't you go   
to bed, or go out and do something?"  
"Aa." Youji just stood up, turning the TV off and went to the kitchen, looking out  
the window into the cold night. Ken followed him and shook his head.  
"Aw, c'mon, we can go somewhere together. You always used to want to drag me off to  
go clubbing with you. Let's do that, eh?" Ken smiled at the older mans back. Youji took  
a breath and looked back over his shoulder at Ken.  
"I don't want to go out."  
"You never do. You can't just stay here and waste away."  
"Leave me alone, Ken."  
"Dammit Youji, I'm trying to help you!"  
"Well you're not!" he shouted, eyes narrowed as he spun around.  
Ken's eyes widened and he looked at Youji, trying to mask his hurt expression. He  
finally said. "Sorry."   
Aya entered the kitchen, having heard the shouting. Ken looked to the redhead and  
then back to Youji. "Maybe you can get him to do more than just sit around all day." he  
stated, addressing Aya, and then left.  
Youji turned his back to Aya and looked out the window again.  
"What happened?"  
Youji didn't reply.  
"You said yourself you didn't want them to be delicate around you. They're trying   
to help you, but you keep turning them away." Aya pressed, talking into Youji's back. The  
other just bowed his head.  
"They don't understand. How can they know how it makes me feel?" he finally said.  
Aya walked up behind him, lifting his hands to rest on Youji's shoulders, working  
his fingers in his clumsy massage style. "I know how you feel," he said, quietly. "But it  
doesn't keep me down. You should be living your life to the fullest."  
"Before the virus takes hold." Youji murmured, lifting his head and sighing as Aya  
worked out the tension knots in his neck and shoulders. "What have I got to live for? Weiß?  
These cheap missions?" He paused, swallowing back the urge to cry. "I'll just die, and I   
won't have made any difference to this world. I won't have anything left to leave behind.   
I'll die . . . and there will be nothing of me left to say 'This was Youji'. I'll just be   
gone. How can you accept that?"  
"I don't see that I haven't made an impact. I've saved lives on our missions.   
True, I've taken them too. I guess I just don't think about it. I try to live day-to-day  
and not think about the future," he answered, his thumbs finding a knot in Youji's right   
shoulder above his scapula and working on it.  
"Aa, but . . . it's the living from day-to-day that's killing me." He breathed, his  
hands holding the counter as Aya worked on his most tense spot. "I need something to live  
for. I'm . . . directionless." His eyes fluttered closed.  
"What did you live for before?"   
"Eh?" He inquired and opened his eyes half-way, looking at his transparent reflec-  
tion in the window. "Love, I guess. Love of women. My freedom. Revenge, too, I guess,  
for Asuka. But," he took a deep breath, "that doesn't matter . . . anymore." His voice  
trembled slightly.  
Aya's hands slipped from his shoulders to wrap around Youji's neck from behind. He   
stepped closer and rested his forehead against Youji's back. "Find love, again, then," he  
softly said. Youji felt himself stiffen a little, but knew Aya was just trying to give him  
a direction to go. What did Aya know about love? Nothing.  
"I'd rather not go public with my condition, thankyouverymuch," he said, sighing.  
He raised his hand and put it on one of Aya's hands around his neck. The other was a lot   
more fragile than he appeared to be to the others. Aya got into depressed moods too, and   
he could feel the redhead delving into one now.  
"Don't go public, then," the other softly said. Youji shook his head a little.  
"I can't do that to them." Youji breathed.  
Aya hadn't finished and his voice was a soft whisper. "Try those who already know."   
Youji stiffened and felt Aya's arms around his neck tighten.   
"Aya," he breathed, eyes opened wide now. Omi, Ken and Aya were the only ones who  
knew about him, and the way Aya was holding him, now . . . His mouth went dry. "You can't  
mean . . .," he felt the hand he wasn't touching around his neck shift and rest over top   
his hand that was over Aya's other.  
"Why not?" the red head softly questioned.  
  
Why not indeed?  
  
  
--end part three-- 


	4. 

One Song Glory: part four  
25 May 2000  
Van Donovan  
trowa@trowa.com  
---------------------  
  
Initially inspired by listening to the song "One Song Glory" by Roger from the musical RENT  
this story took a tragic turn when my real life cousin drowned May 24th, '00 while   
his mother is/was dying of cancer. I suddenly have so much more for this story. Please,   
learn something from it.  
  
--------  
  
"I mean, I'm not . . . you're . . ."  
"Don't say that," the redhead cut him off. Youji felt trapped suddenly, with the  
redhead holding him gently from behind.   
"I couldn't possibly . . . I can't even think . . ." Was this really Aya? The cold  
stone faced redhead who never smiled, let alone showed any sexual tendencies? Was the red-  
head -really- hitting on him? Did he really have HIV?  
Of course he did. That was why this bond had formed. They were the same. Could it  
possibly be that Aya had refrained from his own sexual desires because he was afraid of   
infecting whoever he fell in love with? That seemed so likely. Aya was exactly that kind  
of considerate person. That was why he himself had stopped going out as well. The idea   
that he had already infected girls haunted him. He refused to bring Death to anyone else.  
But Aya was a man. He hated men.  
All men? Or just those assholes who hurt women? Aya had given up himself and his   
identity to protect and save his own sister. Aya was like him. The only women he hurt were  
those who were worse than the men. Aya hadn't probably hurt a girl before, beyond turning  
down the polite date requests they all got at the flower shop.   
Finally, his mind came back into the kitchen, looking at his reflection in the dark  
window glass, seeing those arms and hands around his neck, and feeling Aya's warm body  
pressed against his back. It was an eye opener.   
"That was wrong." Aya quietly said and Youji could feel the regret in the other's  
voice as he started to pull back from him.  
"Aya." Youji softly said, looking at his own eyes in the glass. He took Aya's  
stop-motion and silence as proof he was listening. "Have you ever even kissed anyone   
before?" he waited in the silence.  
"No," the redhead answered, and somehow, even though the redhead was going on  
twenty-three now, Youji wasn't surprised. "But I want to before I die."  
Youji bit his lip, feeling an obligation arise in him, but also a desire. "But, me?  
Are you sure . . .?" the idea that Aya was a man had fleeted out of his mind. Aya was pure.  
Pure people were not people he liked to deal with. Some men swore on how excellent sex with  
a virgin was. Youji tended to despite it. No virgin needed a one-night stand with Kudou  
Youji. That included Aya.  
"I'm sure," the younger answered and Youji exhaled.   
"I don't want to hurt you," the older man said.  
"I'm already hurting." Aya plainly replied.  
"If I leave . . ."  
"You won't."  
"I might, if I--"  
"Trust yourself. Close your eyes."  
If it hadn't been Aya, perhaps he could have been more willing. He regarded Aya as  
a masculine enigma. He could never imagine himself bending to kiss him out of desire. He  
couldn't imagine the redhead submitting under him, letting him loose that firm control he  
always had. If it were Ken, . . . or even Omi instead, perhaps. Perhaps. But, these were  
his friends.   
"I don't want to loose the friendship we have, Aya," he softly said. He knew that  
a sexual relationship would pull cords. It would strain them.  
"Stop thinking for once, Youji." The redhead breathed into his neck and pulled his  
arms away from his shoulders. But instead of backing away, one hand turned his shoulder,  
and Youji found the window circling out of view as he was rotated to face Aya.  
Aya reached up and stroked his face, brushing his bangs from his eyes. Youji was  
stiff again, all the massaging Aya'd just performed going to null. He had -never- seen such  
a compassionate look in the other's eyes before. He'd never been this close to him before,  
either. Aya's hand curled through his hair, fingers brushing his jaw bone and finally going  
to cup around his ear, fingers tangled with his hair.  
Youji couldn't move. He could only look down into those luminous lavender eyes, and  
let the other touch his face. -Aya- was going to do it. -Aya- was going to make the move.  
Never in his quarter-century of life had he been so unprepared for an intimate moment.  
Never had the thoughts that flashed through his mind been this arousing.  
Aya's cupped hand around Youji's ear and jaw gently tugged and Youji found himself   
bowing slightly. Aya raised to his toes, his eyes half shutting as he titled his head. He   
glanced up at Youji, who bent in a silent stupor but didn't resist, and then closed his eyes   
and softly danced his lips over Youji's. His breathed washed out over their lips and a few   
more seconds passed before Aya shuffled into him more and made the kiss real.  
  
-----  
  
Everything fell into place after that.  
Youji showed no shame in their sudden relationship, and it hadn't been a "one night  
stand" at all. After the kiss, they'd just gone upstairs and fallen asleep talking. There  
was no sex. There was no need to rush that. Ken and Omi had just accepted it. Neither one  
really understood how or why the two would go from friends into an open gay relationship  
together. Neither one knew Aya was HIV positive either. All they really understood was that   
somehow the least caring and open of them had latched onto Youji and made the other flourish.  
Youji'd found his reason to live again.  
Several weeks passed in uneventfulness. Youji and Aya charmed the hearts of every  
girl who came to the shop and watched the redhead openly flirt with Youji, who, for once,  
seemed to be the less aggressive of the four. They never directly admitting to being 'in  
love' or even in a relationship, but both Omi and Ken had walked in on them kissing at least  
once. It wasn't hard to tell they had a closeness together that they didn't share with the   
other two boys.   
Aya went on being exactly the same, unaffected by his own ailment, but opening up  
a little to his new best friend, Youji. He smiled a little more, and he laughed a little   
more, but he was still largely the same person. Youji benefited most from his attention.  
Youji's vibrancy, however, couldn't hide the fact that he was being ravished by his  
killer. The already slender man was loosing weight and finding himself out of breath faster  
and tired more often. They tried to get him to eat more, to fight off the way his body was  
burning calories, but he had no appetite for anything but his cigarettes, which could kill   
him just as fast, if not faster.  
"Haven't I told you to stop smoking?" Aya chided, striding into the room where   
Youji sat, feet on the table, ashtray in his lap. Youji flicked some ashes onto the tray,  
coughed and looked up at Aya with crystal green eyes.  
"Getting sick makes me nervous, and smoking relaxes me," he replied.  
Aya made a face and plucked the cigarette out of his hands and crushed it down to   
Youji's protesting. "Smoking is what makes you sick. Besides, I hate the taste of smoke."  
Youji chuckled at that and leaned back, feeling more sick. It'd just been a few shy  
months, but he was already below the 500 T-Cell count and well into his battle with AIDS.  
Ten to fifteen years my ass, he thought. Then, his eyes fell onto Aya. The man looked as  
healthy, strong and beautiful as he always had, with his ruby hair, amethyst eyes and ala-  
baster skin. No one would ever be able to tell Aya was infected just by looking at him.  
Maybe smoking -was- killing him faster. He felt depression set in again. Depression and  
that nagging sixth-sense he had about Aya.  
"Aaa, I'm sorry, Aya." He muttered, looking down at his lap.  
Aya blinked, thinking Youji was apologizing for something other that just smoking  
again. His brows beetled. "What for?"  
Youji took a breath and softly said. "I'm going to die before you."  
Aya cradled Youji's head in his arms and bent, kissing the top of the honey-blonde  
hair. "Shh, don't say such things."  
Youji didn't buy into his comfort. "What'll you do when I'm gone? You'll be all  
alone again," he whispered. Aya stroked his hair and his eyes fluttered closed.  
"I'll be fine. Don't worry about me," he reassured. There was a long silence.   
"Aya?" Youji quietly asked, his voice a soft whisper. "Can I ask you something?"  
Aya blinked and stroked the other's hair more. "Of course."  
Youji took a deep breath. "You . . . you promise you'll tell the truth?"  
Aya's brow's beetled. "Of course."  
Youji's lips pursed, his brows knotting. "You swear on your sister's life to?"  
"Youji!"  
"Swear it, Aya. Please."  
Aya frowned, contemplating the alternatives. "I swear, okay, what is it?"  
Youji's eyes closed, and he took another deep breath. "You don't really . . . have  
HIV, do you?" he finally asked.  
Aya blinked, his hand pausing in it's caressing pattern. "Why do you think that?"  
he inquired. He felt Youji tremble a little, under him.  
"Because we've never . . .," he started, then shook his head. "You said you had it   
for so long, but I never see it affect you . . . I never see you taking drugs for it." His   
voice wavered a little, but he controlled his breathing. "You're so healthy and perfect,   
and here I am, half a year diagnosed, and ready to drop." His voice quivered a little, and  
he continued after Aya remained silent at his pause. "Is this just a game to comfort me?"  
he asked, turning his head back and up, trying to look at Aya. He'd already deduced his   
answer. "Hold and kiss me for a few months before I die? Is that all this is?"  
Aya shook his head negatively, his brows turned up, looking at Youji as he circled  
around him. "That's not it at all." He knelt before Youji, looking up at the other.   
Youji swallowed tightly, afraid with how Aya would answer him.  
"You do like me, then." Youji stated, warily.  
"More than that," he softly answered and met Youji's eyes.  
"You still lied to me."  
"Does it really matter to you whether or not I have HIV?" Aya questioned. Youji's  
lip curled a little, hurt. Did it really matter? Yes. Yes to him it did. If Aya was   
clean now and contracted it FROM him, he'd never ever be able to forgive himself. Ever.   
Even if he died.  
"Yes, it matters," he breathed, his heart cinching tightly. "Aya," he moaned. "Aya  
what've you done to yourself?" he cried.  
Aya stood up, taking Youji's hands in his own. "Shh," he said, pulling the older  
man to his feet. Youji didn't want to be held then. He wanted to die. Why would Aya have  
done this?! He couldn't possibly have liked him enough to throw his life away. He didn't  
obviously want to die from AIDS, because they'd only ever really kissed . . .  
Aya took his hands and lead him through the shop and out back to their apartments.  
He glanced down the hallway and then brought Youji upstairs to his room, guiding him to  
sit on the bed. Youji trembled as he sat and Aya returned to the door and locked it. He  
glanced over his shoulder at Youji, who was still on the bed, his hands trembling a little,  
but doing alright for the most part. He raised his fingers to his shirt, wearing a button-  
up kind today and turned back to Youji as he began unbuttoning the shirt and walking to him.  
"HIV affects different people different ways," he breathed, working on the last   
button as he stopped in front of Youji. The blonde had blinked, looking up as Aya advanced.  
The redhead shrugged his shoulders and bared his ivory skin. The shirt slid down his   
arms and he wriggled his wrists until it dropped to the floor. "It's just affected you a   
lot faster than it affected me," he said, stepping out of his shoes and placing a hand on  
Youji's chest, pushing the older man down onto his back. Aya sunk his knees to either side  
of the mattress around Youji's legs and bent over him.  
"Just because we haven't had sex doesn't mean you should doubt my word, Kudou." He  
breathed and placed his hand on Youji's chest. "But if sex is what you want to stand as  
proof, I'm more than happy to provide. You just weren't ready before." He hadn't been   
ready either. He still wasn't sure he was, yet, but he was on the edge. Right now, he   
felt he could do anything.  
"Aya." Youji breathed, staring up at him, feeling his breath picking up.  
Aya bent and kissed him on his lips, and then started down along his neck and then  
paused to breath into his ear:  
"I have never, ever lied to you, Kudou."  
  
Youji had never felt such relief in his life.  
  
  
--end part four-- 


	5. 

One Song Glory: part five  
26/27 May 2000  
Van Donovan  
trowa@trowa.com  
---------------------  
  
Initially inspired by listening to the song "One Song Glory" by Roger from the musical RENT  
this story took a tragic turn when my real life cousin drowned May 24th, '00 while   
his mother is/was dying of cancer. I suddenly have so much more for this story. Please,   
learn something from it.  
  
--------  
  
The sheets of the bed yielded to their bodies as Aya guided them under. The silky  
smooth fabric was as gentle on Youji's skin as Aya's butterfly kisses raining down over him  
like snow. Aya undressed him slowly, methodically, taking complete care of him. Youji let  
his eyes flit shut, aware only of the man over him, whose cold fingers felt like the softest  
feathers as they trailed over his bare skin. Aya's lips brushed his chest and he reached up  
to run his own long fingers through Aya's hair.  
"Worried?" the red head asked, his voice a little ragged already.  
Youji swallowed to try and catch his breath and shook his head. "No." But . . .  
He trailed off in his mind.  
Aya tightly smiled and trailed one hand along Youji's hip, caressing the flesh,  
marveling over how he could feel the bones just beneath the skin. Youji was so incredibly  
thin. He craned back up, kissing Youji's lips, deepening into a slow drawl. Everything was   
so surreal. He was in bed with Youji. They were both nude. Youji was submissive beneath  
him and kissing him back with what strength he had.   
"You've been so deprived." Aya whispered into his ear as he broke the kiss, knowing  
after Youji had been diagnosed the blonde had abstained from sex. Somehow.  
"And how," Youji breathed, bending his knees up to let Aya fall against him. Aya  
let Youji move as he wanted and kept himself braced up with one arm, barely touching against  
the man. There was no wild passion. There was no sweaty screaming. This was something   
they both wanted and Aya vowed to make it beautiful.  
Youji turned his head to the side as Aya rained kisses along his throat. "Aya," he  
breathed, finally able to form thought to the 'but' he'd thought to say earlier. Aya paused  
to nuzzle Youji's neck while the blonde spoke. "I trust you. I believe what you say. You  
. . . you don't have to do this, if you don't . . . want." He realized how daunting sex  
felt if it was just Aya's way of proving to him that he did indeed have HIV. Youji'd rather  
wait longer and do it when they both . . . wanted it. Not that he felt they didn't now.  
"Of course I want to." Aya breathed, holding Youji protectively with one hand.  
"I mean . . . you don't have to prove this . . ."  
"Should I stop?" Aya asked, lifting his head, concerned. For all the desire in his  
body, he could abstain forever if Youji wasn't comfortable.  
"No. I mean," he opened his eyes, and looked up at the violet eyed red head. His  
eyes widened a little at the look of concern in Aya's face. "I mean, I didn't want this to  
happen just as proof." He started to say more, but Aya lightly kissed him.  
"It's not for proof," he said when he lifted his head, his hair falling about their  
heads and framing Youji's face with auburn locks. He gave Youji one of his sweetest rare  
smiles and whispered. "I love you."  
Youji's eyes filled with tears. "Aya," he whispered, blinking and let them trickle   
down his face. He felt utterly at peace suddenly. His pain had stopped. He didn't feel   
sick. He could only feel his complete bliss at being so close to Aya, and how happy he was  
to share this intimate moment with the redhead. "Aya, I love you too. Gods how much I   
do. Thank you." He breathed and his arms tightened around the redhead, the frail limbs   
suddenly exerting strength he hadn't had moments ago.  
Aya covered his face with gentle kisses as a reply, and then lingered on the blondes  
lips while he shifted, getting them into position. Youji wrapped Aya's strong body with all  
his limbs and tensed a fraction of a moment when Aya took him. The pain at first made him  
gasp, but Aya froze and only laid kisses on him, whispering softly of reassurances. Then,   
he began to move and Youji felt his body go completely over to passion and love making,   
slipping into pure bliss.   
He'd never made such sweet love.  
  
-----  
  
Youji's reprieve didn't last long.  
He deteriorated progressively in body after that. His mind, however, was still   
sharp, witty and conscious. He even managed to keep optimistic when the three of the other  
members of Weiß decided it'd be in his best interest to get a permanent room in the hospital  
for him. Youji hadn't even complained. He knew how much strain he was putting on them with   
his condition. They all visited him daily; Aya, much more than that.  
It was hard on all three of them, though. Seven months ago, Youji had been as   
vibrant, active and healthy as the rest of them. Now, he could barely get out of bed with-  
out assistance. The changes in Youji depressed them all, Aya especially. He'd known Youji  
was ultimately going to die, but he had no clue that the virus would ravish him so quickly.  
He simply couldn't spend enough time with the blonde.  
"More flowers?" Youji asked, looking up as Aya entered the room.  
"You should be used to this," Aya said, smiling softly at his bedridden love. He  
brought a fresh bouquet of flowers everyday.  
"It's unnecessary." Youji chided, but kissed Aya and smelled the flowers with an  
obvious enjoyment when the other brought them close. They were roses this time, and smelled  
like Aya. He enjoyed a change of scenery, and he desperately missed tending to the flowers   
in the shop.  
"Call me frivolous, then," the redhead said, smirking and putting the flowers on  
the window sill. Youji grinned.  
"Frivolous."  
Aya chuckled softly and crossed back, sitting on the edge of Youji's bed. "How are  
you feeling? You look radiant."  
Youji laughed. His voice was as strong as ever. "The doctor told me tonight he's   
going to up my drug regimen, and that it should null the pain enough for me to get out of   
the bed for a few hours." His eyes sparkled and Aya smiled. They both felt they'd gotten   
too little time together out on the town before Youji'd been bedridden. "So, go plan some-  
thing fun we can do tomorrow."  
"How great!" he whispered. "It sounds wonderful, I can't wait." he breathed.   
Youji beamed back at him.  
There was no question that Youji was going to die, and relatively soon. It was all  
Aya could do to keep from crying every time he came into the hospital room and saw Youji's  
ravished body laying frail on the bed, truly just a living corpse. He often would crawl into  
bed with Youji and hold him in his arms. They'd take turns sleeping on the small hospital  
bed together, nestled like spoons. Aya'd stroke Youji's long hair, turned dark brown by the  
lack of sun and nourishment, and would tell him stories of their lives out of the flower  
shop. Youji'd fall in and out of sleep, always clinging to Aya's warm strong body.  
Sometimes, they'd just hold one another and cry together.  
"Come," Aya said, sitting up after awhile. The setting sun slanted in through the   
blinds and cast the room into gold. "let's watch the sunset together," Aya urged. He took   
Youji in his arms, lifting the older man effortlessly and walking to the window to watch the  
orb falling behind the cityscape. Youji was like paper in his arms: weightless and thin.  
"Aya," Youji said, his voice filled with a sadness. Aya, blinking at the emotion  
in Youji's voice, turned from the sun to look at his lover.  
"What is it?"  
"I don't want the sun to set."  
Youji meant that in terms of his own life, and Aya knew it. He didn't want the sun   
to set on his life. Aya swallowed tightly and held him more securely.  
"Youji," he softly whispered. "I promise, you won't be alone."  
Youji just turned his head back to watch the sun as it vanished behind the horizon  
and let the tears course down his pale cheeks.  
  
-----  
  
The phone rang just as Omi walked passed it, and he paused, looking at it. It was  
already nine at night. Aya was still out with Youji, probably spending the night again,   
since he wasn't back yet, and Ken was out back in his apartment. He plucked the receiver   
off the wall and spoke into it. "Hello, this is Omi."  
The speaker spoke and Omi nodded. "Hai," he nodded again, listening to the voice  
on the other line. His face was calm as he listened. "Hai," he said again. He was quiet  
for a very long time, while the other person spoke in depth. He nodded twice. "Aa, I . . .  
I see. Oh. Oh that's terrible," he said, but just blinked, his voice not trembling. "Aa,  
all right. Yes, I'll tell everyone. Yes, let me get your number."   
His hand began to shake as he scrawled digits down. "Aa. Thank you. Yes. Yes,   
thank you. No, I'll be all right. No, that's not necessary. Aa, thank you. Uh-huh.   
Yes, he's here. Hai. Okay. Goodbye."  
He hung the phone up and then a chill coursed through his body.   
He didn't remember turning or running, but before he knew it he found himself   
flinging open the back door. A tortured cry escaped his lips: "KENKUN!!!"  
He banged on the door, and then realized it was open. "Kenkun!!!" he cried. Ken  
jerked up from where he was sitting, cleaning his soccer cleats out, leaping to his feet.  
"Omi! What's wrong!?" but he already knew: Youji.  
"He's dead!" He wailed and fell into Ken's open arms. Ken felt white-hot with   
grief, but he'd prepared himself for the worst. Omi sobbed against him, shaking his head.  
"It can't be!" Omi wept and shivered, shaking violently.  
"Omi," Ken soothed, but Omi went limp, shaking his head more. The words were   
finally wretched from the young boy's lips:  
"It's not . . . Y-youji.  
  
"Aya's dead."  
  
  
--end part five--  



	6. 

One Song Glory: part six  
27 May 2000  
Van Donovan  
trowa@trowa.com  
---------------------  
  
Initially inspired by listening to the song "One Song Glory" by Roger from the musical RENT  
this story took a tragic turn when my real life cousin drowned May 24th, '00 while   
his mother is/was dying of cancer. I suddenly have so much more for this story. Please,   
learn something from it.  
  
--------  
  
Ken collapsed as his knees gave out, falling with Omi in his arms, feeling numb all  
over his body. Surely he heard wrong. Surely Omi was mistaken. He held the boy tightly,   
probably crushing him, but the blonde didn't protest. "Aya . . .?" Ken breathed, feeling a  
lump rise in his throat. He was going to be sick. He couldn't accept the implications that  
meant yet. "How?" he asked, stunned. He had no tears yet. He was still in disbelief.  
Omi was rocked with sobs as he clung to Ken, trying to compose himself enough to  
reply. "He . . .," Omi choked and shuttered. Reflexively, Ken rubbed his back. Omi sniff-  
led and took a long shuddering breath. "He was driving back from the hos . . . hospital,"  
he cringed and more tears squeezed out as he buried his face in Ken's shirt.  
"Another car in the opposite direction . . . luh-lost control and hit . . . his jeep  
and . . . and he flipped." He stopped to take another deep breath, sobbing miserably and   
raggedly in-between. "They . . . they said he died instantly." He shivered.  
Ken took a deep breath and tightly hugged Omi, burying his face into the boys   
shoulder as the finality of it hit him. "Oh no." he moaned. "Oh Aya, no. No. No. Not  
now. Not now Aya. Oh God," he murmured, rocking with Omi. They were both lost in their   
tears and mourning for a long time before Ken breathed, raggedly: "Aa, this will kill   
Youji."   
Omi nodded against Ken's chest, biting his lip, and then burst into tears again.  
"We'll . . . have to tell him in the morning." he whimpered. "I've . . . I've got to,"  
he pulled away from Ken hesitantly, getting numbly to his feet, wiping his eyes and taking  
a great deep breath. "Ooooo." he moaned and shook his head. "I've got to go down to the  
. . . to the police station." Ken got to his feet dazedly and shook his head.  
"Let's go together," he said. Omi nodded, too grateful to have a human comfort.   
It would have been hard enough to deal with the loss of Youji, but . . . but Aya too?  
"This isn't how things are supposed to happen." The youngest miserably wailed. "It  
isn't supposed to happen like this. Poor Youji." He choked a sob as he started to turn to  
go inside. "Ayakun . . ."  
  
-----  
  
-One Song.-  
Youji awoke feeling better than he had in weeks. The new drug regimen his doctor   
had prescribed was working quite well, and he was sitting in a chair near the window, just  
watching the clouds and the occasional bird, sometimes bending to breath in the rose set  
Aya had brought in yesterday. He looked up at the knock on his door, and saw Ken's shape  
outside of it. He smiled. It was so nice when they came by, and he was feeling so good  
right now, and able to actually go out too. He'd wanted to spend time with Aya today, but   
he didn't mind spending the day with all three and then the night with Aya. "Come in!" he  
called. The door knob turned slowly, and then swung open.  
-Glory.-  
Ken entered first, and then Omi. Neither one looked good, although Ken seemed to   
have some sort of smile plastered on his face. Youji raised an eyebrow, seeing the pair, but  
no Aya. Perhaps he was outside with a surprise?  
-One Song.-  
"Hey you guys." Youji said, waving a little. "Good to see you.  
"Hey Youji," Ken said, keeping his voice in check. He smiled a little, even. "How  
are you doing?"  
Youji narrowed his eyes a little. Ken sure was being formal.  
-Before I go.-  
"Aa, I'm pretty good, actually. My doctor put me on a new drug dosage, and it's   
helped a lot. I feel really good today." Omi and Ken exchanged glances, the younger seeming  
terrified of something. "What about you two? Something wrong?"  
-Glory.-  
"Aa, that's good. That . . . you're good." Ken said and blinked a few times. He   
seemed a little at a loss for words.   
They'd talked to Youji's doctor earlier and the man was outside, waiting for Youji's  
reaction. Ken and Omi were worried he'd just die on the spot, but the doctor assured them  
he wouldn't. Still, they wanted to be safe, and kept the man waiting outside. Ken so did  
not want to be the one to break the news to Youji.  
-One song to leave behind.-  
"We've . . . got some bad news, Youji," he quietly said, and looked down, unable to  
meet that verdant gaze. Youji raised an eyebrow.  
-Find one song.-  
"Where's Aya?" he inquired. He didn't miss the way Omi visibly flinched.  
-One last refrain.-  
Softly, Ken said: "He's gone, Youji."  
-Glory.-  
"Gone -where-?" he demanded, his voice rising. He wouldn't believe this. This   
wasn't their bad news. This was some sick prank.  
-From the pretty boy front man,-  
"He's dead." The words were final. Ken hadn't meant for it to come out like that.  
-Who wasted opportunity.-  
Youji just stared at the top of Ken's head, unable to keep that ache in his chest   
from spreading. He opened his mouth to retort, to deny. "No."  
-One song.-  
Ken closed his eyes to hold back tears, bowing his head so he didn't have to watch  
the horror spread over Youji's features. "Ken. No. You're lying." Youji sharply said.  
They had dinner plans tonight. They were going to spend the day together while he was   
feeling so good. They were going to make love and fall asleep in one another's arms.  
-He had the world at his feet.-  
Ken's voice was completely broken when he spoke. "I'm so sorry Youji."  
-Glory.-  
Youji's eyes darted to Omi. The blue-eyed boy stood behind Ken, his eyes red and  
puffy. He'd obviously been crying a lot, recently. Youji felt sick. Sicker than his AIDS,  
sicker than his drugs made him, sicker than any feeling he'd ever had.  
-In the eyes of a young man.-  
"How?" he breathed, his voice catching. Ken shook his head.  
"It was a car accident. He got hit, and flipped."  
-A young man.-  
"No." Youji breathed. Ken winced. "God, Aya . . . no."  
-Find glory.-  
Youji's hands went to his mouth as he covered it. Ken started towards the fragile  
man, willing to hold him and let him cry. His hand touched Youji's, but the other jerked  
away from him; he only wanted to hold Aya. He shook his head and closed his eyes tightly.   
His back shivered as he let the feelings course through him, and he trembled in silence for   
several seconds before the most mournful wail escaped the man's lips.  
-Beyond the cheap coloured lights.-  
Youji doubled over, shaking his head, sobbing. "This can't be happening!" He   
shouted, but his voice lacked conviction.  
-One song.-  
"Youji." Ken breathed but the man just wailed, and shook his head. Omi came up to  
stand beside Ken and rested his small hand on the soccer player's shoulder. They knew Youji  
was going to reject them at first, but they also knew they needed to be there for him, when,  
or if, he finally decided to accept them.  
"He can't be dead. He was just here last night. He was fine. We watched the sun-  
set together," he sobbed, shaking.  
-Before the sun sets.-  
He looked up, suddenly at Ken and Omi. He shook his tear-streaked face and threw   
his hand at them in a 'get away' gestured. "Leave! Don't look at me." He miserably begged.  
-Glory.-  
"Youji." But, they both looked at one another and then backed up and stepped out-  
side to let Youji be with himself.  
When he heard the door close he reached up and pulled the potted roses Aya had   
brought for him yesterday to him. He clutched them to his breast tightly, burying his face   
in the petals and their strong scent, so like Aya's. He completely let himself go, sobbing  
miserably.  
-On another empty life.-  
  
-Times flies. Time dies.-  
  
-Glory.-  
Youji fell, after that. No matter the drugs, no matter the dosages, he resisted.  
He was beyond depressed. He wouldn't talk, he wouldn't eat, and he rarely slept. He was   
truly dying, and in the most awful way.  
-One blaze of glory.-  
Ken and Omi suspended all missions and set about making funeral arrangements and  
comforting Youji. The man refused to really respond to them, but he did agree to attend  
the funeral in a wheelchair. He became coherent enough to request his best blacks.  
-One blaze of glory.-  
It was only three days until the funeral was held, but neither Ken or Omi expected  
Youji to hold out for then. Neither planned a double funeral, but they felt it would have  
been appropriate. Youji held out, but he attended in a state of soft vagueness. He kept   
asking where Aya was, unsettling those gathered.   
-Find.-  
If Aya's sister hadn't also been present, dressed in all black with a dark veil,   
they wouldn't have been able to silence Youji. As it was, the girl put her hand on Youji's   
shoulder, and when he'd next asked: "Where's Aya?"  
She'd softly said: "I'm right here."   
Youji's face had relaxed.  
-Glory.-  
He was subdued for the rest of his time. Aya, the real Aya and sister to Ran, made  
it her duty to stay by the dying man's side. She'd been informed of Youji and Aya's prior  
relationship and felt obligated to help Youji in his time of need, as Youji'd helped her  
brother. She did anything Youji asked.  
-In a song that rings true.-  
Youji faded fast, even with the help of Aya. He managed to tell them that Aya had  
had HIV too, shocking them all, but also making everyone see the logistics of their rela-  
tionship. Youji cried himself to sleep every night, begging Aya, his Aya, to hold him.  
-Truth like a blazing fire.-  
But no one ever came.  
-An eternal flame.-  
  
-Find.-  
Youji took to writing. He could barely hold a pencil, and his only parchment was  
his napkins and what paper Ken could get him, but he wrote anyway. He'd fold the letters up  
without letting anyone read them, and made Aya mail them for him. She complied, and refused  
to let Ken and Omi open them and read what they said. It wasn't their business.  
-The one song.-  
Youji wrote at all hours, and he never spoke. He went two weeks without eating,  
sustained only by the constant IV that pricked into his hand. He was completely bed-ridden  
and by all standards he should have been dead, but every night, after he cried himself to   
sleep, he would awake and begin scrawling letters again.  
-Before the virus takes hold.-  
Omi and Ken had to leave him for times, to lead their own lives, trying to cope with  
the loss of Aya, and more or less the loss of Youji. The man -was- dead. He was completely  
unresponsive to anything. It was like his mind was dead, but his body was still operating.  
-Glory.-  
Aya still sent out his letters, sealing the envelopes for him when he couldn't, and  
buying stamps and mailing them for him. She never asked him questions. He sent out   
hundreds. Some he just scrawled a few words on a napkin and sent it, and sometimes, he   
would spend hours just writing to one person(?) -- was he mailing people?  
-Like a sunset.-  
They didn't find the black book he was copying addresses out of until he died three   
weeks after Aya. It was tucked securely under his blankets, in the fold of his pelvis bones   
where the skin was so sunken-in the book could fit like a notch, undetected beneath the  
blankets. Each name had a check mark by it, right up to Sana Riko; the rest went unmarked.  
-One song.-  
Letters began coming back.   
Some were short and sweet, some were long rants, some were formal. They all   
thanked him, one way or another, for telling them he had AIDS. Some wished him well. Some  
cursed him for being a carrier and infecting them. Some sent flowers. Some, sent money.  
Some didn't reply at all.   
Youji'd written to every woman he'd ever been with, having taken his black book of  
phone numbers and gotten addresses, and informed them that he was HIV positive and dying of  
AIDS and that they'd best get some tests done to check themselves. He apologized for not  
writing sooner. He never asked for compassion, or money, or anything. He just had the   
obligation to tell all of those women what he'd done to them before he died.  
-To redeem this empty life.-  
Omi, Ken and Aya wrote to the rest of the women in the book, and collected all the  
letters. They took the flowers to Youji and Aya's plots, and donated all the money to  
charity. When word got out about Youji's plight to send warnings to every woman in his  
address book before he died -- which numbered over five-hundred -- people began sending more  
mail to them. Donations sky rocketed and every penny was dedicated to the organizations  
in progress to cure AIDS.  
-Time flies.-  
Youji and Aya were both long dead, but what the blonde had started snowballed until  
a charity named for Youji himself was created, and it expanded into a deep research organi-  
zation, headed and fueled by Omi himself.   
It would be the same organization that, in seven years, would discover the cure.  
-And then: no need to endure any more.-  
  
-Time dies.-  
  
  
--the end--  
  



End file.
